


Falling Asleep

by DwarvenBeardSpores



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920s, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:11:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenBeardSpores/pseuds/DwarvenBeardSpores
Summary: Crowley needs a nap, but after the last one, Aziraphale has strong misgivings.





	Falling Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Mir requested "Falling Asleep" from [this prompt list](https://dwarven-beard-spores.tumblr.com/post/181945012486/cuddling-prompts) on tumblr and I made it sad.
> 
> I've finally got around to putting it on AO3, but if you're interested, the original post can be found [here](https://dwarven-beard-spores.tumblr.com/post/181998257341/13-and-aziraphalecrowley-for-the-cuddle-prompts).

By the time they finally got things sorted, Crowley was yawning. Every time he yawned, Aziraphale’s stomach turned over. He had strong misgivings about the whole thing. “You’re quite sure you need a nap?” he said, pausing halfway through turning down his bed. “It’s only been a few decades.”

“There was a war in there. That takes a lot out of someone.” Crowley yawned again. “Angel c’mon. It’s not like I’m—”

“Getting discorporated? No, that’s never taken longer than half a century to get sorted out.” There was something deep in Aziraphale’s chest, hard and sharp and not at all conducive to sleeping. Which hardly mattered, as he never slept, but it was also not at all conducive to _Crowley_ sleeping.

Crowley looked down at his clothes, one of those short dresses that were all the fashion, red and black, and quite a lot of beads. He blinked and they became a soft pair of pajamas.

“Sleep, on the other hand.” Aziraphale scoffed. “I might have to spend another century playing both roles, and that hardly seems fair, now does it?”

“I told you,” Crowley snapped. “You sleep here with me, you can wake me up whenever you want. You _agreed.”_ He climbed into the bed and curled up under the blankets, pulling them over his head. A familiar pair of sunglasses clinked on the nightstand, surprised at the sudden change of scenery. His next words came out muffled. “I just need a break from it all.”

Aziraphale huffed. He was about to tell Crowley that it was his side’s doing, that maybe things wouldn’t be so miserable if Downstairs wasn’t conspiring to make it that way, but luckily for everyone Crowley poked his face out of the blankets long enough to ask:

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

And Aziraphale changed tracks altogether. “Do you know what I’ve gotten tired of, recently? Oh, the war, yes, the illnesses, the human condition, but I’m used to that. _We’re_ used to that. What I’m _tired_ of is being _alone_ in the midst of it.”

Crowley blinked yellow eyes at him. Aziraphale crossed his arms. He stared at the window and staunchly denied the way it wavered before his eyes. Silently, Crowley slipped from the blankets and came to press himself against Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Assira—” Crowley winced at the hiss in his voice. “ _Aziraphale._ Come here, please.”

This time Aziraphale allowed himself to be led into the bed. It was rare that Crowley asked politely for anything and he wasn’t sure what would happen if he opened his mouth to argue. That hard and sharp thing seemed to be making its way into the back of his throat. Crowley wound his limbs around Aziraphale’s body, and pressed his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck.

“I’m not gonna leave you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Angel. I’ll be right here. I jusst need to…” he yawned again, and at least had the decency to look guilty about it.

It was impossible to deny that Crowley’s presence, solid and bony with limbs everywhere, seemed unlikely to disappear. It had been too long since they’d been this close, where Aziraphale could feel the instinctive-if-unnecessary rise and fall of Crowley’s breaths and smell whatever new product he was putting in his hair. Crowley’s eyes closed and his whispering trailed off into silence.

Aziraphale agreed to the terms, first by relaxing into Crowley’s touch, second by bringing a hand up to rest in the small of Crowley’s back.

“A day, you said?” he managed finally, his voice coming out strange.

But Crowley was already fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought. 
> 
> I can also be found on tumblr as dwarven-beard-spores, dreamwidth as DwarvenBeardSpores, and twitter as @BeardSpores.


End file.
